Call it the underbelly of the book’s subtitle, and if you shock easily, this fascinating tale may not be for you. It was also the beginning of a culinary odyssey that took him to a dishwashing job in Provincetown, Mass., where Bourdain admired the cooks who had "style and swagger," seemed afraid of nothing and carried big knives, "which they kept honed and sharpened to a razor’s edge." He wanted that world, and eventually, with stops in a lot of kitchens, he got it.Īlong the way, there was "fornication, free booze and ready access to drugs," writes Bourdain. It tasted of seawater … of brine and flesh … and somehow … of the future." "And in that unforgettably sweet moment in my personal history," he writes, "I attained glory." Bourdain took the "glistening, vaguely sexual- looking object, still dripping and nearly alive." He tilted the shell back into his mouth and "with one bite and a slurp, wolfed it down.
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